Nothing Like Them
by Spider RedNight
Summary: A Scarecrow and Poison Ivy story for Dr. Critical. I put this in Arkham Asylum because that's what I based their looks off of. Planning on adding more in the next few days or so.    Rated K for now.
1. Introduction

"So… This is her?" Jonathan Crane pushed up his glasses as he observed his would-be patient through half-lidded eyes, his expression bored. So far, he wasn't thoroughly impressed; he knew all the inmates at Arkham Asylum were usually driven by the same forces and had an attraction to men beyond measure. As he peered at her through the thick, tinted windows that separated them, he could tell that clothes weren't her first priority; true, she managed to cover up the important parts with what appeared to be a pair of leaf underwear and a half-sleeved red jacket that would've been open had it not been for two buttons between her breasts, pinching her jacket shut. Her clothes weren't as important, however, as the adornments that crawled around her limbs - thin, silvery green vines worked their way up her arms and down her legs, flowering leaves on the ends and increasing her… He guessed the normal man would think of her body as irresistible and enchanting. All he could see was a walking forest, but he didn't include this in his observation.

As he took all these notes, his eyes traveled upward to her facial features. Piercing green eyes stared back at him through the glass and rich red hair rippled around her round heart-shaped face. Full lips were in a pout as her brow furrowed slightly, as if begging to someone for a favour. He blinked once and took more notes, shaking his head once.

"Yes," The voice of a female penetrated what thoughts he had of this woman and he turned his head slightly to see a second young woman coming up beside him. She stared ahead and stood straight, head erect and appearance professional. "She's had a negative effect on the other male doctors," She said. "And she won't tell anything to any female doctors," He sighed and looked back ahead at the woman who was closer to the glass than before. "So…"

"You thought 'Hey, he's available and has a sturdy resistance to annoying women, let's send him in', eh?" He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at her through the same bored eyes. "Is there anything I should know about her, Dr. Young?"

"Uh…" She paused. "She's a smooth talker, a master seductress, and her kiss is poisonous. She's obsessed with plants and she believes that humans are lesser creatures," Young explained in a long, quick list. "That's pretty much it. The air's not toxic, so you can go in there whenever you're ready. You know the drill - two guards just outside, ready at your call. As for myself…" She hesitated again. "I have another interview with Edward. Again." She said with distaste.

"Why can't we switch?" Crane started. He hated dealing with women almost as much as men, and they were harder to deal with, with their hormones, . He had read up on Nigma's files - The Riddler, with puzzles and question marks all over his cell and a high-and-mighty attitude. That would be easy to handle.

"Good luck, Dr. Crane," She said, patting him on the back briefly before turning and walking away. He stared after her, seething inside at her blatant ignorance of the question. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he lowered his clipboard to his side and whipped out the voice recorder he had in his front pocket.

"Patient interview… six," He said after a brief moment of contemplation. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been assigned too many patients - in fact, after only one interview of each, he was transferred to a different one. He couldn't understand why - he thought his scare tactics were the perfect idea to get people to stop being stupid and crazy. He shrugged and continued. "Patient's name is Pamela Isley or, as she prefers, Poison Ivy," He said before pausing the tape and stowing it back into his pocket. He worked his way around to the opening of the cell door and motioned for the guards to step aside. They did so respectfully and he opened the thick door with a bit of difficulty - strength wasn't his forte when he was being leisurely. He managed to work the door open and sauntered inside confidently. Poison Ivy whipped away from the window and faced Crane, her green eyes staring into Crane's own blue ones. Crane sighed and reached into his pocket, pushing the record button on his voice recorder.

"Good evening, Miss Isley," He said in a business-like tone, pulling out his chair and sitting at the small white table in the narrow interrogation room. He liked these conditions; most doctors had the patients walked to their rooms for an interview. He didn't like that because that meant the patients had a good reach of whatever he DIDN'T want them to touch or even see. "I am Dr. Jonathan Crane." She said nothing at first, but her eyes closed partially and she batted thick, beautiful eyelashes at him. A small smile escaped her red lips and she sat down opposite Crane.

"Good evening, Dr. Crane," She replied, his name cascading off her lips like a rare tune that would never be heard again. Crane leaned forward ever-so-slightly, narrowing his gaze at her. So far, he wasn't impressed, and this was a first impression. "So, they send another male doctor to try and reason with me? Worthless," She suddenly spat, somewhat surprising Crane. However, he remained silent. "I can tell you're not like the other doctors, here," She said, running a pair of long nails up her soft-skinned arms. "Something tells me my…" She leaned in until they were less than two feet away from each other. "Impressive skills won't work on you."

"No," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "No, it won't," He pulled his clipboard to the table and leaned back in his chair slightly, propping his calves up on the edge of the table. He placed the clipboard on his knees and started to take notes. "So I suggest you come up with another brilliant way to doom me like you have with everyone else because I can assure you…" He tapped on his clipboard with the tip of the pen to indicate the end of a sentence. He shot her a look with his piercing blue eyes. "I'm nothing like them."


	2. Sincerity

"Nothing like them, that's what I said," She started to retort when he cut her off.

"No, you said that- never mind, continue," He caught himself when he realized that arguing with the patient apparently wasn't how it was supposed to be done. She shot him a look before sighing huffily and rolling her eyes.

"See, this is why you creatures aren't even worth my time," She waved her arm absent-mindedly and avoided his clairvoyant gaze. "My precious plants and I should eradicate you miserable monsters from this beautiful, natural world," she said with an intense softness in her voice as she traced one of the vines on her arms with a slender finger. He nodded slowly and glanced down at his notes, scribbling something down quickly.

"Well… So, since we aren't worth your time, you've spent all YOUR time poisoning our male doctors and playing chicken with the female ones," He summarized her recent behaviour as he pushed his glasses up. She glared back at him, her stunning beauty still evident through the furrowed brows and the pouting lips.

"I suppose this is why YOU'RE the doctor, and not me," She said, flipping her hair and crossing her arms in an indignant way. Crane was pretty sure her legs were crossed under the table, as well, but he said nothing and allowed her to continue. "I wouldn't probe people with pointless questions, trying to get into their heads. The thing is, I don't care about people," She shrugged and looked out the window behind her longingly. "I can hear my babies suffering out there; your men aren't taking very good care of them at all. They're all I care about, my children," She said, looking at him sideways. He blinked once and tilted his head slightly.

"Only plants. No man, like Dr. Young said," He said, removing his legs from the edge of the table and leaning forward slightly. At first, he thought Young was kidding; until quite recently, he thought that this obsession with plants was just an extreme case of hippy syndrome, but the more she talked about it and her very tone indicated that she meant every word she said. For some reason, this surprised him.

"You've been talking to Young behind my back?" She snapped, her hair seeming to flare up when her voice rose. "What nasty rumours has she been spreading about me, that I'm a whore, that I refused to cooperate with the other doctors?" She hissed. "That woman is evil, I hear her when she destroys life, especially my poor babies," She lamented, her tone going from angry to sorrowful. "That woman's evil."

This part especially interested Crane. Again, it was because of her tone. She didn't sound like Harley Quinn or any other female inmate in Arkham Asylum - they all seemed to complain about Dr. Young in similar fashions, all little nips at her for various reasons. However, once again, Ivy sounded different than the rest of them; her tone was more innocent, somehow cleaner and more honest. He furrowed his own brow and sat back in his chair, thinking too furiously to reply to her immediately. The pinpoint was the way she spoke of the plants. It wasn't a possessive sort of obsession, like Harley talking about her love, The Joker, and it didn't sound entertaining and thrilling, like when Edward scrawled threatening messages all over the walls of a medical examination room. No, this sounded more like a genuine concern for something extremely close and precious to Ivy - almost like the plants really WERE her children.

When he finally broke out of his brief thoughts, he leaned forward, seized the clipboard and pen from the table, and immediately jotted down his notes. "Evil, you say?" He responded in more of a mutter than a confirmation question. He looked up at her to find her legs crossed and supporting her head on her arm that rested its elbow on her leg. She glanced over at him and nodded slowly. "That's very interesting," He said, stuffing the pen into his front pocket and getting to his feet unsurely, as if he were dazed about something that happened.

"Wait, wait," She said quickly, standing up herself. Instinctively, Crane reached behind himself and grabbed the doorknob as she stood, just in case she made a move toward him. "Wait, you aren't leaving already, are you?" She asked, noticing his movement and sat back down. She looked up at him, her eyes full of a hidden longing. He looked back down at her and saw something that he seemed to have missed before… Was that remorse? He also noted that when he reached for the door, she backed down and submitted. He quirked an eyebrow and leaned his head back, his glasses sliding back up onto his nose.

"Yes, I'm afraid," He responded calmly, relaxing his position slightly. "I assure you though, we aren't through yet," He said authoritatively, remembering what their relationship was. "Yes, we have a lot to go through."

She opened her mouth and withdrew breath as if about to say something, but when nothing came out, she shut her mouth and looked away from him. "I guess… I'll let you deal with me tomorrow," She said slowly. "Only because playing with you will be twice as fun because you're playing hard-to-get," She said, biting her lower lip and glancing at him with yet another new emotion, a sort of sensual eagerness. Crane sighed softly and managed one more smile before bidding her good day and leaving the room with the fuchsia tinted windows. He reached into his pocket and pressed the record button on his voice recorder again, stopping the recorder.

"I'm done with her for today," He said to the two guards that stood on either side of the cell door. As he walked away from her cell, he brushed some loose strands of hair out of his face and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose properly. He stopped down the middle of a hallway and skimmed over his notes, but not really paying attention to them.

_I'm nothing like them, I'm nothing like them, I'm nothing like them… _The words imprinted themselves on the inside of his head and he realized, as he started an unsteady amble back to his office, that while he could say that, she could just as easily say that, as well.


	3. Persuasion

"You need to… open up more," Her voice rang through his head and Crane snapped himself out of his mild reverie. Maybe the fumes were getting to him, he didn't know. He blinked and inhaled through his mouth. Was that a good idea? Where was he? He hoped he didn't look stupid just sitting there like a lump of… something that wasn't a plant or whatever could insult her.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his vision clearing and his blue eyes falling on Poison Ivy's slender figure and heart-shaped face. His clipboard was just about out of his hands and he tightened his grip on it as well as his pen. She blinked slowly, letting her lashes make themselves useful as she cast him a glance of allure.

"You're so… reserved," She replied slowly. "I can tell you don't let people know what you're thinking." Crane furrowed his brow and looked at her as he pointed his head down at his clipboard. She was an expert on plants, now she wanted to people-read? In any case, Crane didn't want to think of her as truthful; sure, he didn't want people knowing what he was thinking, but he wasn't above giving his opinion or thoughts when they were wanted or needed.

"What makes you say that?" He asked nonchalantly. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her neck back, the light catching her skin through the slight fog. It seemed radiant, even in the dullness of the Asylum. He exhaled softly; she really was a piece of work.

"Oh, nothing of vital importance," She replied mildly, looking at something invisible on the wall. "Why are we in here, again? Why can't I go outside, just for a moment? I want to see my children again."

"Now now, Miss Isley," Crane tapped his clipboard with the end of his pen. "You know fully well why we can't do that."

"THEM, no," She retorted, leaning forward and pressing a palm on the table sternly. "THEY won't let me do anything. No… YOU can, though," She purred, closing her eyes partially and looking at the doctor with her intense green eyes. Crane pursed his lips and wrote something mundane on his clipboard… well, in fact, it looked more like a primitive drawing of a daisy. However, she wasn't to know that because he wanted her under the impression that she was saying stupid stuff to make him write down just how crazy she was. He blinked and set down his pen. Was she trying to…? She WAS.

"Okay. Okay, Miss Isley," He rubbed one of his temples with his free hand. "How long have we had these sessions?" Her nose twitched very slightly as she looked up in contemplation.

"A couple of months, maybe?" She mused lightly. He nodded in agreement.

"And you've been through seven doctors before me," He mentioned. "Four of them were males, all of which you've encouraged to do your bidding and attempted to kill," He licked his lips as he gazed at her through his rectangular frames. "The other three were female and got nothing out of you whatsoever," He narrowed his eyes. "Now, do you really think that, after all these months, that I'd let you get to me to the point where I'd just… let you gallivant about like a frisky teenager in her prime?" He asked with every intention on being serious. As he predicted, she exhaled in a giggle before quickly recovering. He kept a steady eye on her, his expression remaining serious. She fell silent and flashed him her signature look of seduction.

"…Maybe," She said somewhat hopefully, pouting at him in a feminine manner. He leaned back in his chair and propped his knees on the desk, adding more to his poorly-drawn flower.

"Keep dreaming, Isley," He said matter-of-factly and she crossed her arms in disapproval. "And… Unless there are any other tricks you'd like to try on me, I think this session's done," He looked down at his clipboard in mock thought before getting to his feet. She kept her green eyes on his back as he turned to open the door.

"Keep in touch," She replied. "Oh, and… clean your face." She added with a small smile as he exited the room. As soon as Crane shut the door, he leaned against the wall and gasped for fresh air; the musk in her room was starting to get to him.

"Okay, I'm… done in there," He told the guards as he tried to recover himself. They nodded and he parted from them. A short walk down the hall and words were already running through his mind; she really DID try to seduce him into letting her out, didn't she? Yes, it didn't seem unreasonable. But then she said… wash his face? Suddenly a bit concerned, he turned a corner of the penitentiary, his long white lab coat swishing behind him gracefully as he made a beeline for the first bathroom he would encounter. He opened the door with determination and approached the mirror quickly. He scanned his entire body, his face lastly. He gasped and reached out to the mirror as if it were himself.

There was a slightly glistening kiss mark on his left cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.


	4. Placement

"You… kissed me," Crane uttered quietly after a long period of nothing being said. He was leaning on the table, holding his head in his hands and keeping his sharp blue eyes on Ivy's face, looking not unlike a madman who was just arrested and might've been losing his mind every second he sat there. He sounded as calm as possible, but to be honest, he had gotten very little sleep since their last visit; he was distracted, almost terrified of what could've happened during their last meeting. Thoughts kept racing through his head, possibilities tore at his skull, tracing to his eyes and leaving rings, migrating back up and furrowing his brow… He looked like a train wreck. Albeit, a handsome train wreck, but still a wreck. Well… maybe more of a NERVOUS wreck.

"Yes," She admitted after another long pause. As he kept his eyes on her, she leaned forward and rested her own head on her arms, looking back over at him with a curiously beautiful gaze. He sighed and held tufts of his greasy brown hair in pale hands. He still couldn't believe that he let himself become the victim, he thought he was so GOOD at not caring what women did. He didn't like women, he didn't like MEN, he didn't like ANYONE.

"Well…" He sighed again, leaning back in his chair with a defeated 'thump'. "Why?" Why what? Why did she kiss him? He figured the better question would be why she kissed him on the cheek instead of the lips where she knew it would poison him, especially given his habit of licking his lips when irritated. "Why… did you kiss me?" He asked with yet another exhale. The fumes were getting bad, again… right? He closed his eyes for just a fraction of a moment, the movement too quick for the human eye to catch clearly. Oh, wait, she wasn't human anymore. Didn't matter, he opened his eyes again and she was sitting in the same position, now looking up instead of at him.

"Why did I kiss you, huh?" She mused, puffing out her lips as she thought. "Can I say 'I was actually trying to kill you but I conveniently missed because I knew that if I tried to kill you, I'd just get in more trouble and have a different doctor who's not as… smart as you' and get away with it?" She batted her eyelashes after saying her long example. He quirked an eyebrow at her and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

"Besides being way too long, I don't buy into that excuse because it sounds too complex for you," He replied simply, trying to stay calm and avoid jumping right over the table to puncture those full lips with his pencil. "Have you forgotten about your… 'precious children'?" He barely managed to finish the sentence when it was actually her that straightened up abruptly and pounded her palms on the table, rattling it with anger.

"Don't you dare bring my babies into this!" She yelled, causing him to snatch up his clipboard and pencil with quick reaction time. She flared her nostrils, hot air spewing from them in a frustrated exhale. She regained her composure quickly and sat back down, looking more orderly. "I would appreciate if you didn't mention them when I'm forced to be so far away from them all the time," She explained, closing her eyes. He lowered his pencil slowly, on the ready just in case SHE decided to jump over the table. Her eyes snapped open again. "I haven't forgotten about them; I think about them every day, every minute and every breath I take," She explained before adding, "You look pale. Are you okay?" She asked, but whether it was genuine or mock concern he heard in her voice was anyone's guess.

"It doesn't matter if I'm okay," He replied nonchalantly, wiping his bangs from his eyes. "I'm the doctor, you're the patient. It's my job to make sure YOU'RE okay," He explained, feeling as though he's done this several times before. "Though I'm sure you drugging me and kissing me certainly doesn't help my perfect complexion," He added dryly. She smiled and crossed her fingers, resting her chin on them as she stared at him across the table. "And you doing… _that_ isn't helping, either," He waved the eraser of the pencil in her general direction.

"Maybe I'll stop if you just get me out of here," She suggested. He scoffed and shook his head.

"You do this EVERY time, Miss Isley," He chuckled, not amused. "If I haven't let you out once in MONTHS, what makes you think I would THIS time?" He asked.

"I almost killed you LAST time, hoping it might make you change your mind THIS time," She replied casually, tracing a shape on the table with one of her nails.

"Clever, but impractical," He retorted. "I've been trained not to take the vibes of insane people seriously," He said a little quickly.

"I don't think you think I'm insane," She replied cleverly, raising an eyebrow. The corner of Crane's mouth twitched slightly with irritation, but decided that he was too tired – or inwardly panicking – to argue with her right now. He wrote a few notes on his clipboard and got to his feet somewhat uneasily.

"Well, this was an… uneventful talk," He concluded, glancing at her briefly before backing into the door; he didn't want to take his eyes off her. She stared at him with her intense green eyes.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" She asked with an incline at the end of her question; she was teasing him. He furrowed his brow once more and frowned.

"I don't know. Are you going to try and kiss me again?" He mocked, groping the wall behind him for the handle to the door. She chuckled and straightened her back.

"Only if you let your fear overcome you, Doctor," She replied. He exhaled. His fear…? It was true, he was making sure he stayed fully conscious, just in case she decided to do to him what she did to so many male doctors BEFORE him. But was it fear that kept him awake, or just the need to be wary? He found the handle and turned it, starting to edge out of the door and keeping his sharp blue eyes glued on her figure. As soon as he was out the door and had it locked, he turned down the hall and sped walked away, his mind racing – but he wasn't sure what was racing through it.


End file.
